at and lost. He
saw as if in an inspiration the trend of Marker's plans. He had been
given a paltry fictitious errand, like a bone to a dog, to quiet him.
Some devilry was afoot and he must be got out of the road. For a second
the thought pleased him, the thought that at least one man held him
worthy of attention, and went out of his way to circumvent him. But the
gleam of satisfaction was gone in a moment. He could not even be sure
that there was guile at the back of it. It might be all foolish
honesty, and to a man cursed with a sense of weakness the thought of
such a pedestrian failure was trebly intolerable.

But honesty was inconceivable. He and he alone in all the frontier
country knew Marker and his ways. To Andover, sucking his pipe dismally
beside him, the thing appeared clear as the daylight. Marker, the best
man alive, had word of some Bada-Mawidi doings and had given a friendly
hint. It was not his blame if the thing had fizzled out like damp
powder. But to Lewis, Marker was a man of uncanny powers and
intelligence beyond others, the iron will of the true adventurer. There
must be devilry behind it all, and to the eye of suspicion there was
doubt in every detail. And meantime he had fallen an easy victim.
Marooned in this frontier fort, the world might be turned topsy-turvy at
Bardur, and he not a word the wiser. Things were slipping from his
grasp again. He had an intense desire to shut his eyes and let all
drift. He had done enough. He had come up here at the risk of his
neck; fate had fought against him, and he must succumb. The fatal
wisdom of proverbs was all on his side.

But once again conscience assailed him. Why had he believed Marker,
knowing what he knew? He had been led by the nose like a crude
school-boy. It was nothing to him that he had to believe or remain idle
in Bardur. Another proof of his folly! This importunate sense of
weakness was the weakest of all qualities. It made him a nervous and
awkward follower of strength, only to plunge deeper into the mud of
incapacity.

Andover looked at him curiously. His annoyance was of a different
stamp--a little disappointment, intense boredom, and the ever-present
frontier anxiety. But such were homely complaints to be forgotten over
a pipe and in sleep. It struck him that his companion's eyes betrayed
something more, and he kicked him on the shins into attention.

"Been seedy lately? Have some quinine. Or if you can't sleep I can
tell you a dod